The Cat, The Coffee, The Ark and The Box
by iscariot
Summary: SG-1 go offworld to visit some interesting rocks; then it really gets interesting...or not shrug


_Good grief; my first ever Stargate fic. I doubt the people over at the CSI group will accept that as an excuse for updating…but…well…it will have to do._

_I have no idea what prompted me to write this but I'd like to take the opportunity to acknowledge all those parties who hold rights to Stargate and The Discworld and just about every other cultural icon I've taken a swing at in the course of this fic…really, truly, I'm very very sorry…_

_As always, thanks to the lovely **'tasha** who ostensibly betas my inane ravings, however I really think my work satisfies some deeply hidden masochistic streak on her part and she can't help herself._

_Finally, I'd like to dedicate this fic to **dietcokechic, neuropsych and Sheilynn**, three excellent Stargate amongst other things writers, whose own efforts inspired me to give a Stargate fic a go. Thanks._

_Finally, please please please review this fic, normally I'm not too fussed if I get reviews, but for this fic I'd really appreciate it; please, be honest – If you love it, or hate it, or want to sue me for libel, let me know. Actually, the third category can choose not to review._

* * *

"SG-1, you have a go." The artificially amplified voice of General Hammond echoed throughout the gate room.

With his usual regard for military formality, Jack O'Neill waved vaguely in the direction of the control room, with what might, after generous consideration, be called a salute before turning and walking through the shimmering presence of the wormhole framed by the gate. The other members of SG-1 allowed themselves the briefest of eye-rolls and amused smiles before following the colonel through to their latest destination.

Emerging from the wormhole the three members of SG-1 found their leader in what could, at least by his standards, be considered a contemplative state. It was just coming on dusk and the rainbow-hued sunset cast itself across the sky in a display that would have been called vulgar for its ostentatiousness, if not for its sheer magnificence.

"Pretty." Never let it be said that Jack O'Neill was prone to hyperbole.

"It is indeed Colonel O'Neill," and never let it be said that a Jaffa was incapable of aesthetic appreciation.

"So what's with all the colours, Carter?"

"Well Sir, the MALP came back with readings that indicate that the light is refracted on multiple frequencies and therefore the potentiality for multi-variant colour shifts…"

O'Neill looked pained, "Yes, thank you, Carter; I do know why Earth's sky is blue, so you could have stopped at refraction."

"Sorry, Sir." She didn't look very sorry, though.

"So what's this place called again? PX-90210?"

"No Sir, that would be a television programme, this is PX-1066."

"I was close. So, why we here again."

"The MALP identified some interesting ruins of a type that we haven't encountered previously, it was agreed that taking a look couldn't hurt."

"So we're here for rocks. Great. I knew there was a reason why I went to sleep in the briefing."

"Your eyes were open, Jack."

"Special operations trick, Danny, very useful. Carter, did the MALP find any sign of our friends with the snakes?"

"No colonel. No sign of the Goa'uld."

"Alright, Teal'c and I will watch out for the Goa'uld, while you and Danny…"

"…What is it Carter?"

"Sir. The MALP said there were no indications of Goa'uld presence."

"And you believe it?" O'Neill's mien became faux-didactic, "tell me, Carter, how many times has the MALP said there were no signs of the snakes and yet, there they were, hiding around the next bend."

"Well Sir, I'm sure you're right but…"

"…Daniel…"

"Erm…yes, Jack…PX-13542…"

"Yes, alright…but…"

"T?"

"PX-3357 Colonel O'Neill."

Major Carter surrendered gracefully - sort of. "Alright, you and Teal'c will watch for Goa'uld" – even if they're not here – she muttered under her breath. "Daniel and I will examine the ruins."

"Where are the ruins Carter?"

"They would be that way, Jack," Daniel interjected, pointing to the north.

"You sure?" It wasn't that Jack didn't trust Daniel, because he did, with his life. However, despite the existence of that level of trust, the colonel was well aware that not only was his pet archaeologist prone to wandering off in random directions, but that his directional sense was such that the potential for him to get lost on a one-way street was statistically high, so high in fact, that the bookies at the SG-1 no longer accepted bets on the likelihood of Doctor Jackson either wandering off, getting lost, or both on any given mission.

"Yes Sir, he's sure."

"Does that mean you're sure too Carter?"

"Gee thanks, Jack." The colonel simply grinned at the younger man before re-hitching his pack and setting off. "You coming, Daniel? Sam?"

"We could leave him, Sam."

"True, but someone has to keep him out of trouble."

"That's Teal'c's job, right Teal'c."

"Colonel O'Neill is a mighty warrior; although it is probably best if we accompany him."

"Why did I know you'd say that?"

"I could not possibly say, Daniel Jackson."

"Put that eyebrow away, Teal'c."

"I shall endeavour to do so, Daniel Jackson; come, we must not let Colonel O'Neill get too far ahead, if he gets bored he may inspect the ruins by himself."

Daniel grimaced in recollection of the various times Jack had dropped, crushed or otherwise disintegrated his assorted 'rocks' out of boredom. As a result, Daniel had become, not only paranoid about Jack being anywhere near anything which could be considered to have even the slightest archaeological value, but he had developed a sixth sense as to the value of a relic in direct relation to Jack's predilection for wanting to play with it.

"Right, let's go."

Fortunately, at least in Daniel's opinion, Colonel O'Neill was to be found sitting on a rock not far from where he had left the rest of SG-1, somehow he managed to appear both smug and bored simultaneously, "Took your time didn't you?"

"Daniel and Teal'c were discussing the effects of third party interaction on cultural operations and how best to go about ameliorating the potential issues and conflicts that can arise from such interference."

"In English, Carter."

Major Carter has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "That would be, Sir, how to prevent USAF Colonels from touching things they shouldn't, sir."

"Oh really? Any USAF Colonels in particular Major?"

"No names were mentioned…errr…Sir."

O'Neill regarded the trio speculatively; "Well good." He grinned suddenly, "Shall we go then?"

"I thought we were."

"Were what?"

"Going."

"I was waiting. Now we're going."

"Where?"

"To see the wizard, Daniel, where else?"

"I thought we were going to see the…" realisation dawned, "never mind, I'll shut up now."

O'Neill and Carter tried to suppress the smiles that sought to creep their way across the faces of the pair. Teal'c, however, appeared confused.

"Tell me about this wizard, O'Neill, I thought Major Carter said there were no Goa'uld on this world."

"It's from an Earth story T: witches, flying monkeys, falling houses, tin lions, cowardly scarecrows and little dogs, I think. Tell him about the wizard, Carter."

"I think that I now do not wish to know about this wizard, O'Neill."

Carter breathed a sigh of relief.

O'Neill had been looking around while Carter had been praying for the Wizard of Oz to be retroactively obliterated. While he was a big fan of sunsets, especially 'pretty' ones, he was also aware that it was common practise for them to go away as was pretty much explained in the nomenclature 'Sun Set'.

"What time does it get dark around here, Carter, that sunset thing isn't going away."

Sam sighed; sometimes she really wondered why Colonel O'Neill even bothered attending briefings. Certainly, if a mission contained the potential to piss off the Goa'uld, or the Tok'ra, then the Colonel's enthusiasm was scarcely contained. Similarly, if the opportunity arose to acquire, in the Colonel's words, and here Sam mentally cringed, a 'honking great weapon', then, again, the Colonel demonstrated all the restraint and grace common to seven year old boys when presented with the opportunity to feed their sister snails. But bring pure science or the pursuit of knowledge to a briefing and Jack O'Neill was about as enthusiastic as a somnambulist at a coma convention. What was doubly aggravating, as far as the major was concerned, was that she was pretty positive that the Colonel's indifference was assumed solely to wind herself, and Daniel, up as much as possible. Mentally, she shook herself and prepared to answer her superior with something other than the butt of her

90.

"The planet has three suns, Sir. White dwarfs. It's something of an astronomical mystery insofar as they are all positioned equidistant from the planet. One sun by itself would not support life, but synergistically, the three provide enough heat and light for life to thrive; however, the presence of three suns also explains why there is no night. There is, of course, no day _per se_ either, as the light emitted by the suns is not strong enough to produce what we would call daylight."

"Fascinating. No, really, it is." Carter had yet to go for his throat, but the Colonel hadn't become a colonel by taking unnecessary risks. Actually, that wasn't true, it was more accurate to suggest that he hadn't got to where he was by annoying scientists who could probably do things to him involving ten-syllable words that would be pretty uncomfortable. And boring. Of course he could always get Teal'c to help him, and if the Jaffa proved reluctant, then the colonel could always threaten to take him fishing, an ultimatum that usually produced the desired result.

"Are we there yet?"

"No, Jack."

"Fine." Jack decided to shut up; he'd had his fun and it was probably time for him to pay attention to his job instead of teasing his friends. To his mind, a little teasing was fair recompense for having to watch Sam and Daniel ooh and aah over a pile of rocks; even if he wanted to look at the stones at least as much as his colleagues. He'd never admit it, but repeated and prolonged exposure to the pair of scientists had kindled an interest in archaeology that had led him to study a few dead languages in his spare time and he was now fairly fluent in Latin and able to get by in ancient Greek, Sumerian and he could also draw a mean hieroglyph; although the hieroglyph was more likely to appear in something like 101 Uses For A Dead Cat than any sort of scholarly journal.

As they walked, SG-1 played, to all intents and purposes, tourist, admittedly, very wary tourists, but tourists nonetheless. The effect of the triple suns had lent PX-1066 a somewhat strange aspect, strange in the while things were similar to what experience had led them to expect as a relative norm on a human-habitable planet the little differences cast things in a surreal light. The forest the team was currently walking through, for example, while, dense and green, and apparently perfectly formed, rose no higher than a height of ten foot. It was like, if one was going to reach for some form of analogy, like strolling through a rather large bonsai garden; if the gardener happened to be a giant, that is.

"Any sign of wildlife Teal'c?"

"Not at this time, Colonel O'Neill."

"So what's with the shrunken trees, Carter? Are we going to get shorter too, like the Incredible Shrinking Man."

Sam tried not to laugh. "We're not on a boat, Sir, and I see no sign of a fog, mysterious or otherwise."

"That's good to know. The trees, Carter?" Jack was nothing if not persistent.

"Well Sir, I would guess that the reduced levels of sunlight has caused the planet's flora to adapt to the most efficient use of available nutrients through photosynthesis. If the plant life grew any bigger then it is entirely possible that they would die as a result of expending too much energy trying to produce nutrients."

"What about the fauna. Same thing?"

"As we haven't seen any animal life, I couldn't say, however, it would make sense for the evolution of any animals to mirror their environment. That is," she continued, "smaller herbivores who will eat commensurately less foliage. Logically, you would also expect smaller sized predators, otherwise available game would rapidly become scarce and lead to species extinction."

"So I'm not to expect any eight foot leopards leaping out of one of these over-sized hedges."

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

"I can't be right all the time, Sir."

"Why not?"

"Because Jack, you'd be out of a job."

"That's not very nice, Daniel."

"I'll try to live with myself."

"You do that."

"Colonel O'Neill, I am interested in hearing about this man who shrunk; is this a disease of the Taur'i which I have yet to encounter."

"No Teal'c, it's a movie, part of the wave of B-Grade horror films that infested the fifties, the general order of the day was monsters from swamps and giant radioactive ants; and, of course, The Blob."

"The Blob, O'Neill?"

"A giant, very angry piece of silly putty; best left alone."

It was perhaps inevitable that Teal'c's eyebrow would head for the sky and it was only the very angry yowling emerging from the nearby undergrowth that halted its ascent. Teal'c immediately went on the defensive, staff weapon held ready."

"I shall approach the source of the noise, Colonel O'Neill, I trust that you will cover me."

"Right. Sam? Daniel."

"On it."

"Yep."

Slowly, the Jaffa walked forward, senses extended to their utmost as he sought to divine the source of the disturbance. "I sense no goa'uld."

"They generally don't yowl like an enraged cat, Teal'c."

"I am well aware of that, Daniel Jackson, that is why they take a host. Is it not usual for a goa'uld to take the first available host when they have no other choice and no mention was made in the briefing as to whether this world held sentient life."

Daniel, while forced to agree with the logic of Teal's statement, still managed to look dubious; certainly, while other, normal folk, dusted for spiders, the archaeologist checked for stray goa'uld under the bed. Nevertheless, since he was fairly certain that the goa'uld hadn't taken over the neighbour's cat, he was inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to creatures that looked, or sounded, vaguely felinoid.

As the large man entered the bushes, with Colonel O'Neill close behind, Daniel gave Sam a look as if to say, 'paranoid much,' getting a look in return, which while definitely amused, was clearly titled 'lost cause.'

Daniel shrugged and grinned unrepentantly.

"Carter? Daniel? Could you come here a minute?" The colonel's voice, albeit raised to be heard over the increasingly desperate yowling and wailing, sounded, if anything, bemused; certainly holding none of the wary tension that had been evident in his posture as he followed Teal'c.

"Will we be needing our weapons, Sir?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Carter. Teal'c, what do you reckon."

"I agree, Colonel O'Neill, weapons will not be necessary."

There was a pause; "Daniel…?"

"Yes, Jack."

"You wouldn't happen to have any weed killer on you?"

Archaeologist looked askance at physicist, "Weed killer?" he mouthed silently.

Carter could only shrug; with Colonel O'Neill just about anything was possible. The pair carefully picked their way through the undergrowth, such as it was as the truncated natured of the foliage made them feel like giants wilfully stumbling though the seven dwarves severely neglected, and somewhat overgrown, garden.

"Colonel O'Neill? Where are…?"

"Over there, Sam," indicated Daniel, pointing to their left, certainly a godawful racket was emanating from behind a particularly dense clump of trees and if one looked closely, flashes of movement could be made out; while it was true that the USAF camouflage was most effective there were certain things that it didn't disguise particularly well like, for example, gold symbols in the middle of a dark-skinned forehead and grey hair.

"Carter. Daniel, so glad you could make it; didn't happen to see any white rabbits passing you on your way in did you?"

"White rabbits, O'Neill?"

"Never mind, Teal'c."

"So Jack," interjected Daniel, striving mightily to ignore what passed for wit on the colonel's part, "what have we got?"

"That," he said, indicating a plant, which seemed to made up entirely of viciously whipping tendrils, each of which ended in a particularly nasty-looking barbed spine. However, that was not all, for it wasn't the plant that was making the noise, that honour went to a small black-and-white spotted cat-like creature – actually, it resembled nothing so much as a pre-shrunk snow-leopard - which was well and truly trapped amongst a multitude of the tendrils that were slowly drawing the creature towards the centre of the plant.

"Looks like the bastard child of a triffid and the sarlaac" Daniel noted.

"Sarlaac? Daniel."

"The sarlaac is a creature from the film Return of the Jedi, O'Neill, it draws it's victims in, towards it's mouth, by use of various tentacles; however, Daniel Jackson, I do not know what a triffid is."

"It's a plant that kills it victims with a poison whip, Teal'c, it then waits for the flesh to putrefy before eating; it's a central character in a book written by John Wyndham…"

"Indeed."

"Daniel," Jack looked pained, "can we do the book review later, maybe over tea and scones, let's deal with the immediate problem."

"And that is?"

"How to shut this thing up, it's giving me a headache." Direct translation from the O'Neill-to-English provided, 'Aw guys, let's just get the kitty-cat out, but I'm not going to come out and say it because it would ruin my hard man credentials.'

"We could put the animal out of its misery O'Neill."

"I'm the one with the headache, Teal'c, not the…" Jack paused, for want of a species name "the…cat thing."

"I do not think General Hammond would approve if we shot you O'Neill."

"Janet probably would."

"Guys? Back on track please. Carter? Suggestions?"

"We could always go back to the SGC and get that weed killer your were asking for, Sir."

"Even if we had time, I don't think yon critter could wait for the three or four days needed for the poison to take effect."

"So, what do you suggest, Colonel, shooting the plant?"

"That worked against the triffids, Sam; a shotgun blast to the main stalk." Daniel noted

"Daniel, will you please shut up about triffids!"

"I am finding it most informative, Colonel O'Neill…" the Jaffa looked like was going to continue on, only to be interrupted by a particularly piercing howl from the trapped felinoid.

"Looks like there's only one thing for it." Jack sounded resigned as he pulled his machete from the sling on his pack. "Time for winter pruning."

"I don't think it's a rose, Sir."

"A rose by any other name, Carter."

"Shakespeare, Jack? Very impressive; however, as I don't thing your average rose is going to take a swing at you like that thing is preparing to, I would suggest a bit of caution."

"It's just a …ow…bastard…take that." For the next ten minutes the gallant Air Force captain threw himself fully into the battle with an intensity usually reserved for the truly malign and venal – and if Kinsey wasn't available, then the nearest system lord with pretensions to exceptionally gaudy, kitsch interior decoration as a symbol of their godhood.

It appeared that Shakespeare was the order of the day as the colonel was heard to mutter under his breath, "My kingdom for a weed-whacker," of course, he couldn't really take the chance of the critter getting all sliced up so he had to settle for his machete, and inevitably, the tide of the battle began to turn, if only because the plant wasn't able to replace those tendrils its adversary was amputating. Eventually, the plant gave in, and in a gesture that essentially amounted to a statement that if the guy, who was hacking at it with a knife, really wanted the howling ball of fur that much, then they could have it; and would you please stop slicing off my arms and leave me alone…

"I guess you really showed it, Sir."

"Indeed, O'Neill, a most impressive effort."

"I have a hedge that needs trimming when we get back, Jack."

"Mrrrrow."

The creature, now released from the ministrations of the plant, regarded the assembled SG-1 with a curious expression on its face, which, although not aggressive in the least, roughly translated as 'thanks, but what the hell are you?' It then proceeded to give itself a wash.

"Well campers, let's move on shall we? We should try and get to Daniel's pile of rocks before nightfall, or whatever passes for nightfall around here"

Ten minutes later and the team was back underway and making good progress across the eclectic terrain. Generally speaking, when God, the local generative spirits or the horrifically advanced alien civilization that sets up the world does its job, there is usually some indication of a blueprint being followed, that is, forest merges into scrubland which becomes grassland, which in turn can become desert; PX-1066 was either a trickster's jest or the result of a complete lack of common sense; certainly, whichever deity had constructed the world was paying more attention to golf course design than producing a world that made any sort of geographic sense; at least that was what SG-1 was feeling as the crossed what amounted to a mile-wide sandpit – cunningly disguised as a desert - located just north of the forest where they had rescued the felinoid and just south of a swathe of close cut grassland.

"Did I miss hearing about the giant lawnmower that lives in these parts?"

"We still have a lot to learn about the conditions endemic to this planet, Sir, certainly the degree of variation of small-scale topography is most unusual, it's possibly related to the effect of the triple suns, but frankly, we don't know enough about the effect of such solar phenomena on a planet to make any definitive statements."

"No would have sufficed, Carter. Anyone else?"

"Mrrrrow."

"Please tell me that was you, Daniel."

"It was not Daniel Jackson, Colonel O'Neill."

"Thanks for that Teal'c, it was a rhetorical question. Oooookay, moving on, does anybody have any idea where the little critter actually is?"

"The creature does not appear to be readily apparent, O'Neill."

"Mrrrow?"

"For something that's not readily apparent that sounded awfully close."

It was the rustling noise that eventually gave the creature away, that and the fact that one of Teal'c's roast-beef MREs appeared to be levitating out of his pack. Somewhat perturbed at the thought of his dinner making its escape, the Jaffa made to recapture it.

"I do not believe, Samantha Carter, that MREs are designed with VTOL technology."

Reaching for the meal, the large man was brought up short as his MRE made a hissing noise and started growling. Not deterred by his obviously, extremely angry dinner, the Jaffa reached out and grasped it only to be rewarded with more hissing and a set of claw marks across his hand.

"An attack MRE, Carter, very good, whatever will you science guys think of next? I'm somewhat surprised though, is it not more common for the MRE to attack from the inside out."

"Very droll, Sir; I do believe we have found the feline."

"No?" O'Neill essayed shock, "and here I was thinking that Teal'c's meal really did mean to attack him. Anyway, what's with the invisibility, the little guy was pretty visible when the vegetation was trying to make him lunch."

Carter shrugged, sometimes it was a pain being the only available scientist as it inevitably meant getting asked questions that you had no idea how to answer.

"Maybe it's endemic to the planet's fauna, it would certainly explain why the MALP failed to pick up any visible wildlife; other than that, I couldn't tell you, certainly it would a useful predatory mechanism."

"Maybe," noted Daniel, "unless of course the prey had the same ability." Everyone sat for a moment and pondered the possibilities of an invisible predator stalking an invisible target.

"It's a wonder the predators don't starve to death, although I imagine that they'd have to develop other mechanisms to hunt their prey; maybe we should investigate this sir, it could be useful."

"Carter, I hate to tell you this, but I didn't bring my David Attenborough ouija board, you're just going to have to let it go."

"O'Neill, who is David Attenborough?"

"Don't you watch anything other than Star Wars, Teal'c?"

"I do not think the exploits of Humphrey Bogart will assist in finding the creature."

"Does anyone have any 'helpful' suggestions?"

"We could always give it the MRE, Jack."

"And why would we possibly want to do that?"

"It might be hungry."

"I have no objections, O'Neill."

Jack shrugged, "Alright, put the food down…somewhere."

Moments after the food had been deposited, the feline appeared – literally - with, if it had been a human, what could be called a very self-satisfied smirk.

"Well, Sir, the fact that is has appeared would tend to support the supposition that the use of invisibility is for hunting, certainly the necessity to remain invisible after its prey has been captured would be moot."

"True enough." The colonel appeared to think for a moment, assessing his options, before coming to a decision. "Alright folks, if the little guy gets to eat, then so do we. Teal'c do a brief perimeter sweep, Daniel, Carter; let's start setting up camp.

Various sounds of agreement met his command and soon the area became a hive of structured, bustling activity; the creature, unperturbed, continued to feast on the MRE with more apparent enjoyment than the makers of the product had probably ever thought a being could derive – this included the Asgard, who, for some reason O'Neill could not figure out, steadfastly maintained they would rather eat their cube-things than an MRE; even in the interests of scientific experimentation.

On consideration, the colonel had to agree. If his only motivation for eating an MRE was to provide some measure of scientific data then he wouldn't touch them either. To be fair, MREs had improved a great deal since his time on Special Forces assignments, but he also had to acknowledge that he missed the functionality attached to the previous MREs where they could, with very little alteration, be left to resemble a potentially deadly device. He chuckled softly, the old MREs always reminded him of an old British comedy show, The Two Roberts, or something, where they referred to the last execution in Her Majesties Prisons by salmonella poisoning, he chuckled silently to himself at the idea of the hearty man eating a condemned breakfast.

The colonel was roused from his reverie by the return of the Jaffa, "The perimeter is secure, Colonel O'Neill."

"As far as you can tell, anyway."

Teal'c bristled slightly. Despite his long association with the human, O'Neill, and his high regard for the man he called comrade and friend, he did not take well to having his competence challenged. O'Neill, despite his unfortunate propensity for having the tact of a misogynist at a women's rights rally, knew well how highly the man before him valued his prowess as a warrior, and the importance he placed on his personal honour, and as such moved quickly to forestall Teal'c's' visage becoming even more implacable that the granite face it already resembled.

"If our little friend with the MRE is any indication then the likelihood of you seeing anything out there, unless it wanted you to, is pretty slim."

Teal'c bowed slightly in acknowledgment of his friend's logic. "Indeed."

"But no snakes?"

"There are no goa'uld, O'Neill."

"Well that's something I guess. Okay folks, let's eat, then I'll take first watch, then Carter, Teal'c and then Danny can get us all coffee. After a hearty dinner of MREs everyone prepared to either sleep, or in Jack's case, ready himself for the first watch.

"O'Neill?"

"Yeah, T?"

"Why is there a cat on my sleeping bag?"

Of course everyone gathered around to look at the strange sight of a sleeping cat.

"Looks like it finished your dinner then Teal'c"

The Jaffa's eyebrow appeared to think about rising before deciding that it couldn't be bothered arguing with gravity, "I can see that Daniel Jackson."

"Maybe it likes the way you smell Teal'c."

If Teal'c had had a hairline his eyebrow would have risen well past it, possibly into orbit.

"What are you trying to say Major Carter?"

Sam winced. "Only that animal behaviour is often determined by an instinctual reaction to a specific scent, it's possible that the creature finds your scent non-threatening Teal'c."

"Good save, Sam," whispered Jack, in what was a purposely-poor attempt at a _sotto voce_ comment.

While Teal'c may have been satisfied with Major Carter's explanation, there was one being who wasn't, and they, head raised, glared at the major with a large, and fairly obvious degree of irritation from the sleeping bag where they had been sleeping. The major was somewhat taken aback.

"Do you think it might be sentient, Sir, its reaction to my statement would appear to indicate that it understood what I said."

O'Neill shrugged, "I doubt it, Carter, it's a cat…thing, if it's anything like the cats back home then it probably just looks irritated because your imaginary friend is making too much noise."

"Are you assuming Jack, that just because it doesn't appear to be humanoid that it can't be intelligent."

"No, Daniel," replied the exasperated colonel, "I'm saying it can't be intelligent because… It's... A… Cat. Cat's are not intelligent, they are cats."

"That's an argument that is remarkable for it's complete lack of logic, Jack; even by your standards."

"Thank you, Daniel. Look, I'm not saying that it can't be intelligent because it's not human, human's aren't necessarily intelligent, look at the NID, I'm saying it can't be intelligent because it's a cat."

"Good night, Jack."

"You know, Sir," said Carter, as she passed the colonel on the way to her tent, 'you keep saying things like that and one day someone may actually believe that you mean them." She smiled, "Good night, Sir."

O'Neill's eyes followed the major as she walked away, "Good night, Carter;" then much more quietly, under his breath, "but I do mean them;" he sounded almost plaintive.

Several hours passed and the members of SG-1 had variously come and gone from the campfire as their turn at watch came and went. It had been a quiet night with only a brief hiss and muttered curse to break the silence as Teal'c had returned to his tent after his turn on watch and engaged in a brief, but heated, dispute with the cat-creature over sleeping bag property rights. Now morning, such as it was - as only the arbitrary assignation of time by the planetary interlopers broke night from day - was dawning, and Daniel, per instruction, was putting the coffee on. If Daniel had had his way he would have been packing an espresso machine with its own naquada power cell, but Hammond had vetoed not only the request for the espresso machine but any time and money spent on developing a power cell for its operation.

It was most unfair.

Thus Daniel had to make do, and being the inventive sort that he was, he had commandeered the mother of all stovetop espresso makers and then had some friends at a machine shop in town cunningly disguise it as something useful. Initially, Colonel O'Neill had not been impressed when Daniel had deployed – and deployed was the correct term since it was big enough to resemble a small tactical nuke – the beast, but his first taste of the coffee it produced convinced him; certainly it was better than the Air Force's freeze-dried swamp mud, and it was now the first thing packed on any away mission, in fact, the rest of SG-1 took it in turns to make sure that Daniel didn't forget it.

Bustling about in the depths of coffee-making Zen, Daniel hadn't noticed the emergence of the - well as far as Daniel was concerned – cat from Teal'c's tent, or at least not until it had parked itself on his foot and purred contentedly as it waited with the archaeologist for the coffee to be ready.

"Well, good morning." Daniel was, if nothing else, polite.

The cat regarded him quizzically for a moment before twitching one of its ears in what Daniel interpreted to be a similarly expressed sentiment; never let it be said that continually being shot at, up or worse, had blunted the young man's sense of optimism. By the time Daniel had finished considering how polite small, furry animals were these days the espresso pot had done its thing and Daniel helped himself to a cup for not only was coffee essential to start the day with, but everyone knew that the first cup of coffee out of a pot was the best tasting and since, he rationalised, he had made it, it was only fair that he get the best of it; he was considerate enough, however, to fill the others' mugs generously and then proceeded to rouse them while his own coffee cooled slightly. It was the one drawback, Daniel though as he walked back from the tents to recover his coffee, the espresso pot needed to boil; proper coffee should never be exposed to boiling water, but you just had to make do when roughing it on another world.

Sitting down, Daniel picked up his coffee and sighed contentedly as the rich black liquid caressed his taste buds before settling in his stomach with a soothing warmth; soon the caffeine would hit his central nervous system and his consciousness would once again become one with his body. Other people might drink coffee solely for the mechanistic purpose of waking up, but for Daniel each morning was a near religious experience. Returning from his momentary state of euphoria, Daniel looked around for the cat he didn't have to look far for directly across the fire from him sat the cat, head partially obscured as it drank Jack's coffee directly from the mug.

Of course fate would have it for Colonel O'Neill to arrive at precisely that moment.

"Daniel? Where's my coffee?"

"I believe the cat's nearly finished it, would you like another?"

"The cat drank my coffee?"

"Sure looks that way" Daniel replied laconically.

"…And you let it?"

"Well I wasn't going to let it drink my coffee."

"…grrkkkarrgghhhh…" It wasn't often that Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF, was rendered completely speechless, but on those occasions that he was you knew it was well worth the wait.

"…And by the way Jack, I think the fact that it drinks coffee is overwhelming proof of its sentience." Daniel felt rather smug about that.

"I don't know Daniel, you drink coffee and I'm starting to doubt your sentience."

"Why."

"Why?…He asks me why?" Jack raised his hands in supplication to the Gods, well those gods that didn't happen to carry snakes around in their heads. "Because you let that cat drink my coffee."

"I thought we were supposed to attempt to forge diplomatic relations with alien civilisations and cultures."

"It's not an alien civilisation, Daniel, it's a cat, and it drank my coffee!"

"It's just coffee, Jack."

"But it was MY coffee! Mine. Do you understand that, Daniel? My…Coffee…"

"Did your parents not teach you to share, O'Neill?" noted Teal'c, as he arrived to catch the end of the colonel's comments. He nodded a greeting to Daniel and collected his coffee.

"Not with the cat. The designated role of a cat is not to drink my coffee, the designated role of a cat is to do cat things. Why can't it go chase an invisible mouse or spit up an invisible hairball?"

"I think that sounds rather unreasonable Jack, if you had a choice when you woke up in the morning would you rather chase a mouse or have a cup of coffee."

"But it doesn't make logical, rational choices, Daniel, because IT'S A CAT!"

"What's with all the shouting?"

"Colonel O'Neill has not yet has his coffee, Major Carter."

"Ooooh Coffee! Thanks Daniel." She took a sip and visibly relaxed, "you got the Italian dark roast I was telling you about, isn't it great?" She turned to look at the colonel, "Why haven't you had any, Sir, it's very good."

"mumble…cat…mutter…snarl…bastard…grumble…coffee…bastard…grumble…"

"I didn't quite catch that, Sir."

"Colonel O'Neill is upset because the cat drank his coffee, Major Carter."

"It did?" Sam looked mildly surprised, "so it is sentient."

That was the final straw for the colonel who stalked off to mutter in private. Daniel shrugged and turned to the cat, "Well, since he's gone, would you like a refill?"

"Mrrrrow."

An hour later they were back on the trail, with cat-in-tow. Colonel O'Neill, while not particularly overjoyed with this development managed to accept it at face value and derived considerable personal enjoyment, and no small measure of revenge, by asking his trio of fifth columnists how they were going to explain their new friend to General Hammond. Also, not wishing to appear inhospitable, he also made sure to include the cat by threatening him with vivid descriptions of Dr Frasier's needle collection; whether the cat understood was an entirely moot point as far as Jack was concerned, the cat had drunk his coffee and therefore needed to informed of its proper place in the order of things.

As they walked the landscape changed once again moving from dense, but low-lying, bushes and tussock grass into an angular, rocky wasteland. Carter suggested that the area might indicate some measure of planetary volcanism, the only problem with this was that there appeared to be no apparent volcanoes, although, if it wasn't for the lack of heat and maleficent ifrit the landscape would have stood-in perfectly for a particularly clichéd interpretation of Dante's Inferno. The only comfort to the members of SG-1 was that if the planet stayed true to previous observation then they wouldn't have to put up with this spectacularly ill-conceived rock-garden for very long as. Even the cat expressed his displeasure at the change terrain in by choosing to leap onto the top Daniel's pack, which not only protected the soft pads of his feet but also gifted him a much improved view – or it would have if there was anything worth looking at.

"How far to your pile of rocks, Daniel?"

"It's not a pile of rocks, Jack."

"It's made of rock and it's in pieces, right?"

"Yeeeesss." Daniel answered warily.

"So, how far to your pile of rocks?"

Sam stepped in before the archaeologist could stab Colonel O'Neill with something blunt and probably involving a run-up.

"The topographical estimate taken from the MALP and the UAV suggested that the ruins were about ten hours from the gate, we trekked for about four hours yesterday and we've been walking for nearly another two this morning, so that's four more hours, Sir."

"I can add and subtract, Carter," he noted.

"Yes, Sir," she didn't quite succeed in sounding like she wasn't humouring the colonel.

"Don't push it, Carter." O'Neill paused briefly to survey the area which, while in the grand scheme of things was not particularly inhospitable, was also not especially conducive to sitting, I guess we keep going then, we'll take a break in an hour."

Sure enough, the terrain continued to change and the blasted-scoria gave way to rolling meadows and flowers; there were no gambolling lambs present, however, there was a gambolling cat-thing, for as soon as the party left the, for want of a better term, volcanic plateau, the creature had leapt off Daniel's pack and disappeared into the grass. Perhaps gambolling is the wrong word, for the cat's disappearance was followed shortly thereafter by a series of high-pitched and clearly agitated squeaks and not long after that the cat reappeared with something in its mouth.

"What is it, Carter?"

Carter looked askance, "I don't even know what the cat thing is and you want me to tell you what it's caught?"

"Alright then, what does it 'look' like?"

Teal'c, who had bent down to retrieve the unidentified creature from the cat's jaws and then paused to make sure all his fingers remained accounted for as the cat had been patently unwilling to give up its prize, held up the beast, "It appears to be some kind of rodent, O'Neill."

"With eight legs…"

"Yes Daniel, I can see…"

"…and fangs…"

"Yes Daniel…"

"…nice looking claws too…"

"…Daniel…."

"…and a club-tail…"

"Daniel, shut up." Daniel, of course, ignored him.

"So what you're saying, Teal'c, is that it looks nothing like a rodent but is the size of a good sized rat?"

"Yes. A rodent."

Of course, when you're Teal'c's size, and proficient at, or with, just about everything that can be swung, fired or thrown, pretty much everything up to, and probably including, a tyrannosaur, could be considered a rodent, the thing the cat had brought to the group, however, bore as much resemblance to the earth-style definition of what constituted a rodent as a moth did to a helicopter.

"Give it back to the cat, Teal'c."

"But Sir…"

"Were you planning on eating it, Carter?"

"No Sir, but it's an important piece of indigenous fauna and…"

"…And precisely where do 'indigenous faunas'," O'Neill winced at his mangling of the language, "precisely where, fanged, clawed rodents…"

"With clubbed tails, O'Neill."

The look the colonel gave Teal'c was far from friendly, "With clubbed tails, thank you Teal'c, …appear..." he stuttered briefly as he lost his train of thought "…dammit Carter, rodents are not alien technology, nor are they representatives of an alien civilisation with whom we can ally..."

"…That you know of…" interrupted Daniel.

"…That we…Daniel, you haven't convinced me that that damn cat is sentient and now your starting on the sorta-rats."

"But he drank your coffee…"

If it had been an opera, Jack would have been storming back-and-forth across the stage melodramatically tearing at his hair and looking for an exaggeratedly phallic knife with which to inflict a mortal injury upon his person, as it was, he had to settle for a quietly aggrieved 'why me' and a brief look heavenwards, although it was uncertain whether he was appealing to the gods, or hoping that Thor would turn up and beam him out of there. Manfully, he moved on. Strangling Daniel, he knew, would serve no practical purpose other than providing a small measure of instant gratification; the fact that he had been brought up – and trained – to value his friends and team also played a significant role in the archaeologist's continued existence; but he swore to himself, that if Daniel mentioned that damn cat drinking that damn coffee one more time then the pile of rocks they had come to visit wouldn't be the only thing in pieces when they left the planet.

"Teal'c, give the cat back his…errrr…sorta-rat, and let's get moving, the rate we're going we're never going to reach that pile of rocks." The Jaffa shrugged, and tossed the somewhat limp looking non-rodent in the general direction of the cat who snapped it out of the air and took off into the grass; momentarily, the unmistakeable sound of splintering bones was able to be heard.

"Well Teal'c, at least you won't have to share your dinner this evening."

"Indeed," was the only response the colonel received.

A moment of indecision hovered over the team, then Sam, followed by Daniel, parked themselves on the ground and began to access assorted utensils from their packs.

"Isn't it a bit early for lunch, guys?"

"The cat's having lunch; it made me hungry, sir."

"Then go and catch your own sorta-rat, Carter, we've got another hour of walking before we're supposed to have a break."

"Yes Sir, you figure out a way for me to see invisible creatures and I'll gladly go get my own. I'll get one for all of us, we can have a sorta-rat each."

"That's fine Carter, we'll have lunch now."

By the time the food was unpacked and prepared, the cat had returned from doing whatever it had been inflicting on the sorta-rat, while its muzzle was somewhat gore-splattered it was obvious that the creature had taken some time to clean itself up."

"Why do you think it keeps coming back, Carter?"

"Maybe it likes you, Jack."

"I'm a dog person, Daniel."

"You did save its life, O'Neill, maybe the beast considers itself in your debt and is honour-bound to accompany you on your quest."

"Alright guys, this isn't funny anymore. The cat is not sentient, it does not owe me a debt and it is not following us to the pile of rocks out of a sense of honour; it's just a cat, maybe it thinks we're all carrying tins of tuna in our packs."

"Mrrrow," said the cat.

"And you, stay out of it!" Next it'll be white rabbits with oversized watches, he thought to himself. "Right people, mount up, I want to get to the stone pile as soon as possible."

Mostly, they walked in silence, with not even the yowl of an outraged cat-thing to interrupt them. For its part, the cat-thing, while generally staying with the group, had a tendency to hurtle off into the undergrowth at a moments notice with feline cries equivalent to those of the ancient philistines in the midst of a battle frenzy – or Hammond when SG-1 had once again set intergalactic relations back a millennia.

Several hours later, SG-1 crested a moderately sized hill and stared out over a vista of rolling plains; it was the type of scenery, where, if you waited long enough, you could expect to see the cast of Bonanza galloping towards you which, since they were all dead, was a pretty alarming thought. At the bottom of the hill and about a mile as the crow flies – or the sorta-crow, which on this planet was more likely to be related to a pteranodon with bunny ears than an actual crow – was the pile of stones, or ruins as Daniel, somewhat pedantically called them to Jack's mind, that they had come to see.

A quick survey of the surrounding area assured the team that there were no obvious dangers and thus, with Teal'c taking point – and the cat-thing right on his heels - they proceeded down onto the plain.

"You don't think the cat knows something we don't, do you Jack?"

"Knows? … Daniel."

Daniel winced, "OK, would you accept that past experience has potentially imprinted itself at an instinctual level?"

"Yes."

"So tell me why, when instinctually the animal maybe knows something about this place, it chooses to come anyway? You can't make a dog go somewhere he really doesn't want to go once past experience has created a bad association, so why then is the cat here?"

"Well I can think of two potential reasons; the first, is that the animal has no negative associations with the place and secondly, and more likely in my opinion, I'm betting there's a heap of really fat sorta-rats in the pile of rocks and it wants to get there before we do to ensure that we don't eat them first."

Jack looked rather proud of himself; Daniel simply looked dubious.

"Would you eat a sorta-rat?"

"Well no; but the cat doesn't know that."

If possible, Daniel looked even more dubious, "Right, Jack. Whatever you say."

"Seriously, Daniel, if the cat was to offer you a sorta-rat would you eat it?"

"Well no, but that's not the point, the point is that the cat might not be leading simply because it's dinner time; if it was dinner time the cat could simply annoy Teal'c until he gave him another one of his MREs."

"You know, Daniel, you keep trying to make a case for the cat's sentience and yet you quite clearly stated that the cat, after eating an MRE last night, would voluntarily choose to eat one again. As far as I'm concerned, that rules out even the slightest potentiality for even the tiniest iota of anything even resembling the ability to think."

"You eat them," the younger man noted somewhat accusingly.

"Maybe so, but I'm in the armed forces and as such I'm not paid to think."

"Consistency's not your strong point is it, Jack?"

"I'm not paid to be consistent either."

Fortunately, at least from the perspective of Teal'c and Major Carter, SG-1 reached the site of the ruins before further commentary could be made on the causal relationships between cuisine choices and military intelligence as indicators of alien sentience. If Teal'c's expression was anything to go by he was in danger of becoming so stoic as to collapse under the gravity of his own expression and thus become the first former Jaffa to become a black hole.

Sam Carter didn't even bother trying to come up with a contribution to the discussion, like all professional spectators she had learned that once a pair of perennial combatants resumed sparring it was better to leave them to it, or get caught in the crossfire; and having done that aplenty in attempting to mediate between the colonel and the Tok'ra, she decided that she'd rather…rather…well she'd rather eat a sorta-rat.

As SG-1 came to a halt by the easternmost wall of the ruins all conversation ceased; it was that sort of edifice, something that took your breath away. Imagine if you will, the grandest of cathedrals where the height of gothic architecture merged with the power and fragile grace of minarets that reached skywards in holy supplication. Think of the power of architecture most bold, of sweeping design, of grandiose vision, of heartbreaking beauty; all of these things the ruins were not. In fact, they were the exact opposite.

Well not really opposite, for opposite would imply ugliness, and the ruins were not, to be fair, ugly. Admittedly, human language hasn't developed an appropriate adjective to accurately quantify the natural aesthetic that the ruins presented, but, for the sake of posterity, SG-1 tried.

"Daniel? You may have read, somewhere, that the camel is what happens when you let a committee design a horse."

"Yeeessss." Daniel's answer was somewhat suspicious

"Now, think of the same committee, enlarged, all speaking different languages and blind…"

"Come on, Jack, it's not that bad!"

Even the ruins were trying to pose as an innocent pile of rocks and not as a testament to a previous culture's architectural prowess; in fact, if the ruins could have whistled an off-key tune to indicate that there was really nothing out of the ordinary going on then it surely would have.

"Innnnteresting."

"Indeed, O'Neill."

"Any ideas… Danny?…Anybody?"

"Mrrrrrow?"

"Not you."

"What? As to who might have built it?"

"Well, 'built' isn't the word I was thinking of; I was thinking more along the lines of from what height were these stones dropped. Let's face it Daniel, what we're looking at here is the result of a civilisation trying to build castles in the air and getting the basic building materials horribly wrong."

"Well, yes. It does appear a bit disordered, but there might be a reason this, we'll just have to look around. Or, more correctly, Sam and I get to look around and you and Teal'c get to guard us."

"From what?"

"Invent something, you're military, I'm sure you can find a red under a bed somewhere."

"Daniel…" Jack growled warningly.

"You could come and hold a torch for me."

"Fine, we'll go and hunt sorta-rats."

"But Sir, you can't see them."

"And your point is, Carter?"

"Nothing, Sir. She turned to the archaeologist, "well, Daniel, we may as well get set up." She looked at the sky to judge the time available to reconnoitre the ruin before remembering that on a planet where night and day were the same there probably wasn't a lot of point. She smirked quietly to herself and looked around to make sure the colonel wasn't in hearing range "Well, I think we can probably get three or four hours of work in before Colonel O'Neill gets bored and comes looking for us."

"That much? You're pretty optimistic today, I'd say less than two."

"Usual bet then?"

Daniel nodded affably and collected his gear from where he had laid it down when they had stopped to admire the site, "Right then, let's get started, the sooner we start, the sooner Jack can come and bother us."

Sam simply grinned and shook her head in bemused resignation.

The inside of the ruin was a surprise; for where the outside of the ruin looked …errr …ruined, tossed together almost, the inside was anything but; in fact, it looked like whomever had left the ruins had continued to employ a maid service; and considering the state of repair inside it appeared that a handyman dropped in on a semi-regular basis.

From an archaeological perspective, Daniel was dumbfounded. In his experience he knew that cultures often overlapped and that this often showed up in their writings and mythologies. Sometimes, cultures even overlapped temporally and interacted on a cultural and economic basis and such things were uncovered in the writings of such cultures and on occasion in digs and explorations. However, the predominant factor in such cross-culturalism, was that these cultures showed a general tendency to be within a fairly adjacent geographic ambit. Thus, for example, Daniel wouldn't have been too surprised if an Etruscan vase was uncovered in a buried Roman villa; he would, however, have been somewhat flummoxed if an Aboriginal sand-painting had found its way onto a Viking funerary longship.

The Stargate had changed this, as various Goa'uld seeded the races of humanity about the worlds of the universes with all the order and planning one would expect of a bunch of two year olds on amphetamines; but this ruin, this temple – although Daniel labelled it so in his mind solely for the sake of convenience – resembled nothing so much as a geographical and temporal ark. Every wall, every pillar, and even the ceiling were covered in writings. On one wall, Akkadian sat next to ancient Celtic, which in turn rested beside Malay, on another, Maori warred with Russian, Ethiopian and Eskimo for prominence.

Daniel was speechless, which when considering that you couldn't get him to shut up when he had one language to look at was truly astounding. Quite simply, Daniel's brain had overloaded and shut down and if he had been able he would have been thankful in the extreme for the non-presence of a certain USAF Colonel who wouldn't have let him forget it.

"What do they say, Daniel?" Sam's quiet question roused him from his reverie.

"Huh? Oh, give me a minute would you?"

"Sure."

Daniel paced about the ruin for a bit looking carefully various pieces of script and making various noises indicating approval – or, as far as Sam could tell, disapproval; finally, he stopped beside a section of the West-facing wall and gestured Sam over.

"Why this wall, Daniel?"

"Latin," was his answer, "while I can translate a good thirty to forty percent of the other scripts, I don't want to have to try and contextualise and transliterate them as well as translate, at least with the Latin I'll have a base from which I can work more completely with the others."

"So you're using it like a sort of Rosetta stone, except for a much wider range of languages."

He smiled, "We'll make an archaeologist of you yet."

"You've already succeeded with the Colonel."

"Does he still think he's hiding his secret?"

"Yep." They both laughed, knowing that you couldn't hide your understanding of something from people who knew both you and what you were looking at, and were watching you surreptitiously reading it in the vernacular. Jack's understanding of Latin was immediately obvious to Daniel, and further, the colonel had given himself away when he unconsciously supplied a word Daniel had forgotten one time; while Sam, who only had limited ability with languages herself, was enough of a student of human – and O'Neill – nature, not to mention years of empirical scientific observation, to draw accurate conclusions from what was right in front of her.

"So, what's it say?"

"Ummm, here we go, '…and upon the back of the great swimmer A'tuin, shall ride the elephants and they shall be four in number and in turn shall they carry the great disc upon which lies this world."

Sam looked confused. "Did you say elephants?"

"Yes." If Sam looked confused, then Daniel was confused squared.

"Does it say anything about this A'tuin?"

"Nope," Daniel replied in the negative, he turned to scan the other text, staring at the writing closely he shook his head, as if shaking out some errant cobwebs from spiders whom had nested without the necessary resource consents, and then re-examined the writings, "I must be reading this wrong," he said, half to himself."

"What does it say?"

"It's Babylonian," he noted, by way of introduction, "and it says, if I'm reading it right, that the great A'Tuin, is a giant space-going turtle," he sighed, "I really, really need a vacation."

"A turtle?"

"Yep, a giant, space-going one; I suppose we should ask the Asgard if they've seen one around lately."

"How about we let the colonel know first?"

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled. We can add it to our ongoing conversation about whether or not the cat is sentient. I can see it now; 'and by the way, Jack, did you know we're standing on the back of a giant turtle.' I'd be lucky if he didn't shoot me. For my own good no doubt, but he would shoot me…and then go home with the cat."

Sam was about to answer when she noticed that Daniel had turned his attention back to the writings, "Something else?" she asked.

"It says here, something about a guardian?"

"A guardian? Can you be more specific?"

"Not unless you consider 'it comes on many feet' specific."

She shrugged, "Could be an army of some sort, I'll call the colonel, he should probably be advised." As she lifted her radio she was interrupted by two things; the first, was the arrival of the cat, at speed, the second was Colonel O'Neill on the radio; he didn't sound pleased.

"We're heading back towards you, Carter, we're under fire."

"Fire, Sir? From whom?"

"Jaffa."

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"They're kinda hard to miss, Carter; and after all this time I am fairly certain that I know what a Jaffa looks like."

"Jack, it's Daniel. Is Teal'c able to identify the goa'uld to whom the Jaffa belong."

"We didn't have time to properly introduce ourselves."

Teal'c's voice broke in.

"Colonel O'Neill is partially correct Major Carter, I was not able to discern the emblem of the goa'uld in question with any degree of certainty."

"I'm hearing a but, there Teal'c."

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson. While I cannot be certain, I believe the Jaffa to be the minions of Ahriman."

"Harry who?"

"Ahriman, Jack. Pretty much the head evil guy in Zoroastrianism."

"Never heard of him."

Daniel shrugged to himself, Zoroastrianism wasn't that well known on Earth, and it's adherents only numbered in the thousands, so it was hardly a surprise that a USAF Colonel, based in Colorado, knew nothing about it.

"Usual bad guy traits; how do you know about him Teal'c?"

"A lot of the goa'uld under Ra and the other system lords had ambitions of their own, Ahriman was one such. While it was before my time, I was led to understand that he formerly served under Apophis; certainly my lord, excuse me, my former lord, Apophis often referred to Ahriman as 'The Apostate,' but I never knew why, we were, however, to report any sighting of his sigil to Apophis."

"Interesting. I wonder what…"

"Yes, really interesting, Daniel. Do you think we could talk about this later when we're 'not' being fired at?"

"I concur O'Neill."

"I suggest to retreat back to the ruins, Sir, it's pretty defensible."

"Right; we're about ten minutes away."

"Where did you go, Jack?"

"This isn't the time, Daniel; let's just say we followed that damn cat, and if finding these guys is your idea of intelligence, then there's not a lot I can do."

"Well he's back here now."

O'Neill's voice sounded muffled as the radio bounced against his chest as he ran "Fabulous, he leads us in to trouble but doesn't stay around to help."

"What do you expect, Jack? He's just a cat."

"I don't know Daniel, he could throw sorta-rats…or something. Carter? You still there?"

"Yes Sir."

"Five minutes out, and could you gag Daniel?" The radio clicked off.

"Gag me?" The young man did not appear impressed.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it, Daniel; well not too much anyway." Of course, Sam wasn't going to put any money on the colonel's intentions, she'd sent the results of his wagers with Feretti once too often for anything that came out of his mouth to ever be considered a certainty.

Daniel grinned suddenly, "I'll just have to explain all the languages in this place to him when he and Teal'c arrive."

"I'm sure he'll be fascinated."

"I certainly hope not, where would the fun be if I don't get to hear his eyeballs glazing over?"

It was Sam's turn to shrug, 'If that's what you want to do, Daniel, but remember that you were complaining earlier about Jack shooting you? Well you're just asking for it if you give him a lecture."

Daniel looked worried, for about a second, until he saw the major grin, "Right, let's set up by the entrance, the colonel and Teal'c will be wanting us to lay down some covering fire as they come in; try not to shoot either of them please."

"Only because you asked so nicely," he paused, before continuing in a semi-hesitant vein, "You do know that I'm not completely useless with the

90."

Sam looked at him quizzically, "Of course, you should be after five years. However, even with all my training I'm still tempted to shoot Colonel O'Neill on principle, nothing serious mind you, but he does deserve a flesh wound every now and then."

"That's hideously unprofessional, Sam."

"Isn't it though? C'mon, we'd better set up."

"Mrrrrow?"

The pair looked at the cat.

"What do you think it wants?"

"I don't know. Cat biscuits, maybe? A ball of wool?"

"Well it's either that or a sidearm."

"Well, I don't have biscuits or wool and the cat doesn't have an opposable thumb to pull a trigger so he's out of luck. Let's go, if he wants to come and watch I'm sure we can find him a seat."

As they neared the entrance of the ruins, Sam and Daniel could hear the muffled sounds of staff and zat fire in the near distance; it appeared that the Colonel and Teal'c had made better time than they had anticipated – although, when one is being fired upon, motivation is the least of your concerns. As they settled themselves in positions that, while under cover, provided clear lines of fire, they could hear, interspersed with the weapons fire, the sounds of figures crashing through the bush indicating that the colonel and the Jaffa had taken the direct route. Presently, they came into view, running hard, Teal'c keeping pace with the colonel. Although the Jaffa could have easily outpaced the older officer, loyalty and honour demanded that he stayed close.

"Get ready to fire Daniel."

"Right," was the clinical response.

"Mrrrrow."

Neither, Daniel, nor Sam, spared the cat a look but if they had done so they would have been surprised to see him looking somewhat smug; actually, the resemblance to Colonel O'Neill when he was about to tell General Hammond something he wouldn't want to hear was as remarkable as it was chilling.

Meanwhile, as Colonel O'Neill and the Jaffa drew closer, an almost-conversation

began as instruction, question and discussion were passed back and forth between the four members of SG-1,however, due to the almost continual noise of weapon-fire, comprehension and follow-up were somewhat limited.

"Carterrrrrr! Start firing."

"Did he tell us to start firing, Sam?"

"Sounds like it. What would he like us to fire at?"

"That would be the Jaffa…"

"Who aren't in range…"

"Carter, why aren't you firing?"

"I do not think she can hear you, Colonel O'Neill, perhaps it would be best if you saved your breath for running."

"Fine, you tell her to fire."

"I am too busy running, O'Neill; come, we are almost there."

Sam could see that the Jaffa following behind the colonel and Teal'c, while not closing on the pair, were also stubbornly refusing to turn around and go home; such was the way of the cannon fodder who were usually presented with the choice of charging directly into the teeth of the enemy, or turning and running into the teeth of their god; either choice invariably had fatal consequences. Just for variety's sake, Sam thought, it would be nice to see the Jaffa run off into the sunset. Personally, she didn't bear the Jaffa any enmity, she would just have preferred it if they found someone else to shoot at.

"Shoot to kill, Sam?" He sounded unhappy about the prospect, although no one would have blamed the archaeologist for wanting to kill a few Jaffa; they'd certainly killed him enough over the years.

Daniel's quiet question roused her from her thoughts "Let's give them a chance to run away, fire over their heads."

Like a stick to a beehive the effect of firing over the pursuing Jaffa's heads was only to make them angrier than it appeared they already were; and instead of turning and running they turned their weapons on the weapons-fire coming from ruins. Fortunately, these Jaffa appeared to have been crossbred with Imperial Storm Troopers and neither Sam, nor Daniel came even remotely close to being hit. The distraction of the Jaffa also allowed the colonel and Teal'c to safely reach the ruins not much the worse for wear, although in the colonel's case, distinctly out of breath.

"Hello, Sir."

"Carter," he acknowledged, "little late on the return fire weren't you?"

"We thought it would be nice to let them come into range, Sir."

"Well, and least you didn't shoot us."

"…and you were in range…"

"That's very reassuring, isn't it Teal'c."

"Indeed it is O'Neill. I am extremely glad that Major Carter and Daniel Jackson decided not to shoot us."

The colonel looked sideways at is companion, not entirely sure as to whether the Jaffa was taking the piss, shrugging, he decided that there were more important things to worry about, namely, the Jaffa, who hadn't taken the hint and had set up positions about the ruins and had continued firing.

"What do you want to do, Sir?"

"We could invite them in for tea and cakes, Carter; what do you mean what do I think we should do? I think we should get out of here."

"How?"

"I'm working on it, Daniel."

He didn't have the chance to advance his plans any further, for a tearing noise shook the ruins and then the Jaffa started screaming.

"What's going on Carter? Teal'c? I can't see."

"Sorry, Sir, my line of sight is blocked."

"I can see, O'Neill." The Jaffa sounded somewhat disturbed.

"Well?"

"It would appear, Colonel O'Neill, that the Jaffa of Ahriman are being chased down and eaten by a wooden box… a wooden box with many legs."

"Yes of course, what else could it be." Jack knew better than to ask if Teal'c was serious, which was akin to asking if the pope was Catholic, but still, a wooden box attacking Jaffa; why couldn't it be something simple, like a bug-eyed grey alien, or a tour bus filled with nuns. Fortunately, or at least before Jack could ask something he would probably end up regretting, Daniel spoke up.

"The writings on the wall spoke of a guardian, what Teal'c is describing would appear to resemble what is written," he grinned momentarily at Sam, "well, an army it's not."

Major Carter shrugged in response, she wasn't paid to read dead languages, what did she know? She didn't get a chance to voice this sentiment, as Colonel O'Neill jumped in first.

"What writings? You didn't mention any writings."

"You were too busy running and avoiding being shot, Jack; anyway, the ruins are not as ruined as they would appear, in fact the inside is near perfectly preserved and the walls are covered in the writings of a multitude of languages, like an oversized Rosetta Stone" he sighed heavily, "the writings don't make much sense, but you can't have everything, I guess."

"What do you mean they don't make sense, Daniel?"

"Well, I guess that would depend on how much you know about giant, space-going turtles."

"Okay, very funny, now what did it really say."

"I kid you not."

"Don't forget the elephants, Daniel."

"Elephants?"

"That's right, Jack, elephants; on top of the turtle."

With massive self-control, Jack reined in a retort, "Fine, why don't you tell me about this guardian then."

Daniel closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember what he could of the translation "…and shall the guardian come, borne on the feet of many…"

"That's it?"

"Sorry," Daniel shrugged, "I'd only just started translating when you called, there's not a whole lot I can say other than," and at this point he peered over Teal'c shoulder, "it does have a lot of feet."

"Daniel! Put your head down! How many times have I told you not to stick your head into the middle of a fire fight!" Colonel O'Neill would have continued with his rant if not for Teal'c's intervention.

"O'Neill, the screaming appears to have stopped."

"We'll wait a second, it could just be a lull…hey, where's he going? Get back here you stupid cat."

The cat, completely oblivious to the colonel's command – or more likely due to plain feline contrariness – had leapt down from where it had been sitting and sauntered out into what had been, but a scant few minutes ago, no man's (or cats) land and was now rubbing its head lovingly against the guardian.

The Luggage appeared to glower menacingly, its hinges making irritated squeaking noises as the feline rubbed itself back and forth against the sapient pearwood. It knew about guarding things; cats were something else entirely.

"What is it Carter?"

"I've got about as far as deducing that it's some sort of box, Sir… with legs." She added, as an afterthought.

O'Neill sighed, "So much for the scientific explanation. Daniel, why don't you scuttle back inside and see what the walls say. Teal'c, stay here and watch," he groped for a description…"watch that…that…thing."

"…And what shall I do if it attacks, O'Neill? The weapons of the Jaffa had no discernable effect."

The colonel shrugged. He had thought about suggesting the

90 but that might make the whateveritwas mad, "Shout. Loudly."

Teal'c, while not looking particularly overjoyed at the less than helpful suggestion, bowed his acquiescence "Indeed I shall O'Neill. May I inquire as to what one should do about the cat?"

All four members of SG-1 looked out onto what had minutes before been a field of battle and found the cat, on its back, paws waving ecstatically in the air, as The Luggage assumed a very put-upon air. Colonel O'Neill shrugged, again.

"Are you developing a twitch, Sir?"

"Very funny, Carter. T, Leave the cat where it is, he seems to be enjoying himself."

"Indeed."

"Carter, you're with me, we're going to explore the ruins a little bit."

As the three Tauri members of SG-1 made their way inside the – ostensible - ruin, Teal'c assumed a carefully watchful position; while the strange object appeared non-threatening at present, the anguished screams of the Jaffa were testament to the havoc it could wreak. As he watched, he in turn appeared to be watched, which to the former Jaffa's mind was a somewhat disconcerting experience, as his observer had no discernable eyes. The cat didn't seem unduly worried, however, and for some strange reason, Teal'c found that comforting. This wasn't to suggest, of course, that he bought in to the idea that the cat was sentient, he just didn't think it was non-sentient either. What was certain to Teal'c's mind, was that a Jaffa, who had spent years worshiping a false god, was the last person who should be making judgement calls as to what something appeared – or didn't appear - to be.

While Teal'c engaged in his staring match with the guardian, Daniel engaged in a similar contest of wills with the plethora of text that covered every inch of the inner walls. 'Make sense of it,' Jack had said, before disappearing into the bowels of the edifice with Sam in tow. Unfortunately, Jack, with his usual consideration for the burdens of all things linguistic and archaeological, had failed to specify precisely what he meant by 'it,' and to make matters more complicated, Daniel wasn't too sure what he meant by 'sense' either. Whose sense? If anything it was Jack's wilful refusal to grant other cultures the courtesy of expressing their own thoughts in their own way that drove Daniel crazy. While Daniel was prepared to concede that sometimes negotiations did indeed proceed more smoothly when a modicum of military persuasion was in evidence, he still firmly believed that context was everything and thus Jack's eternal rush to have everything explained in terms that suited his own worldview often did more harm that good. It was for this reason that he decided to start looking for an explanation of the guardian, for while it was a box, with legs no less, to Daniel's mind the likelihood of finding some sort of rational explanation for that was far more likely than having to explain giant, space-going turtles to the Colonel; then again, as the Colonel was under the impression that ice hockey was a sport and not an organised brawl with uniforms anything was possible.

While Daniel was ruminating on the best way to explain the unexplainable in a way that wouldn't get him yelled at, the Colonel and Major Carter, were wandering around the ruin making tourist noises. Well, actually, Sam was making tourist noises and the Colonel was adding his patented, sarcastic editorial to her awestruck commentary, for the temple had turned out to be not only a remarkable language repository but also an amazing astronomical resource as the pair had discovered on entering a room that held a massive three-dimensional representation of the galaxy; and perhaps more.

"This is just amazing, Sir."

O'Neill, with all the enthusiasm of a croquet player at a formula one race, tried to look interested. "Where's Earth?"

Before Carter could answer, or even look for the planet so she could answer, the display reoriented itself with Earth positioned right in front of the colonel. "Don't worry, Carter, I've found it."

Looking for the entire world like she wanted to bang her head – or more likely, the Colonel's head – against the nearest wall, Carter, limited herself to a simple, silent acknowledgement.

"It's amazing."

"You've said that already, Carter."

"Yes, Sir, but it's…"

"…Amazing. Yeah, I got that Carter, care to tell me why?"

Sam took a moment to collect her thoughts, "Well, Sir, not only did the representation of the galaxy recognise your use of the term 'Earth' and was able to instantaneously orient the display to that point, but it did so in response to your use of English to do so."

"Neat."

"Ook."

"Ook, Carter?"

"Not me, Sir." She activated her radio, "Daniel?"

There was a momentary pause and then a crackle of static as Daniel answered, "Yes Sam?"

"Has Teal'c come in?"

"No. Should be have?"

"No, he shouldn't, looks like there might be someone else in here, so keep an eye out."

"Right."

Sam looked at Jack, "Should we go back?"

The colonel shook his head in the negative, "We know where he is and we can be pretty sure he's not going to wander off," they both smiled at the thought. The probability was that they'd have to tie the archaeologist to Teal'c and carry him out was statistically somewhere in the hundredth percentile; it was either that or get an army of MALPs to tow the ruins back to the gate. "We'd better advise Teal'c, though."

"T? You still there?"

"Where else would I be, O'Neill?"

"Right…Sorry. Ummm, we think there's someone else in here with us, nothing has come in past you has it?"

"Nothing has passed me. Do you require assistance?"

"No, that's fine, just keep an eye on Danny, will you?

"Certainly." Sam hid a grin as she imagined Teal'c acknowledging the Colonel's request by bowing his head in the direction of his radio.

"Is that box still out there?"

"It is, O'Neill. The cat continues to associate with it."

"Well keep watching that too, O'Neill out."

"Alright, Carter, let's continue, but keep your eyes open."

"Yes, Sir."

"Ook."

"There it is again, Carter, you see anything?"

"No Sir, but I've found a banana skin."

"A banana skin? This is starting to sound like the beginning of a very bad joke."

-

Jokes were the last thing on Daniel's mind as he scanned the words in front of him; Latin, Sumerian, Coptic they all said the same thing and giant, space-going turtles were the least of his worries; before him, spelled out in excruciating detail, was the history of a whole new universe, where things were definitely not as they were known…Jim.

He flicked his radio on. "Jack, Sam, you might want to come back."

"You got trouble, Danny?"

"Noooooo, I wouldn't call it trouble."

"Well what would you call it?"

"Let's go with interesting, I like interesting."

"Interesting?" Jack and Sam exchanged a look – a patented, pointed that bespoke long experience with the intersection that was Daniel Jackson and 'interesting'. 'Trouble,' the major mouthed silently with a wry grin crossing her face. The colonel merely rolled his eyes. "We'll be there in ten, Daniel, O'Neill, out." He forwent his usual admonition for the archaeologist not to go anywhere.

"Teal'c?"

"Yes, O'Neill?"

"Daniel has found something, 'interesting'," he paused, waiting for the unseen, but totally expected eyebrow raise to his emphasis of the word "we're heading back and should rendezvous in about ten minutes; how are things your end?"

"It is quiet. The Jaffa have not returned; however, I believe the box is staring at me."

The colonel managed not to point out that, as the box didn't have any eyes, it couldn't stare at the former Jaffa; he was sorely tempted but he knew that a moment's humour wouldn't be worth the oppressive weight of Teal'c's disapproving glare when SG-1 reassembled "I wouldn't worry about it, as long as it's not making any aggressive moves I think we can assume that it's fairly safe," O'Neill paused, and despite hating himself for asking, still inquired, "is that cat still rolling around, Teal'c?"

"It is not, O'Neill, presently it appears to be attempting to persuade the box to eat a sorta-rat; the box does not appear to view the idea with any favour."

"…And who can blame it?"

"Indeed."

"Alright, Teal'c, we'll keep you posted."

Teal'c settled himself down and prepared to wait. If the former Jaffa had been given to displays of overt emotion he would have yawned – so bored was he with sitting watching a creation more suited to the special effects stage at Industrial Light and Magic. His boredom did not dampen his curiosity, for he was by nature a curious individual and always ready to ask questions of others, and perhaps more importantly, himself. However, his warrior code taught him patience, which was a virtue, but also, that rushing over to investigate the really interesting strange thing was a sure fire way to get shot, captured or maimed and thus, despite the fact that he wanted to go all Japanese tourist on the box, he sat and watched.

The Luggage, for it's part, was no less bored and although the grass hid its toes it continued to drum them on the ground in agitation; the luggage was furniture-of-action and standing watching a large person do nothing while an insane feline tried to get it to eat…something…that…well…something that didn't resemble a bag of crisps and a warm ale, was doing nothing to improve its disposition.

Finally, in a fit of anthropomorphic frustration it began to approach the large human and the sanctuary if for no other reason that to see if it could make the man run and thereby generate some much needed excitement.

Teal'c, who had remained alert, reacted immediately to, what appeared to his practised eye, the very determined approach of the box – with the cat in pursuit, sorta-rat in its jaws.

"O'Neill, the object is approaching my position."

The radio crackled to life. "Can you determine its intentions?"

"I cannot." The Jaffa paused, "Although it's gait reminds me of Clint Eastwood in High Plains Drifter."

"So what you're telling me Teal'c is that coming towards you is 'The Furniture With No Name'?"

"That would be correct O'Neill."

"How does it look?"

"Like a box."

"Does it appear angry?"

"It does not have a face, O'Neill and interpreting the actions of advancing furniture was not covered in my training by Master Brae'tac. Furthermore, when I was in the service of the false god, Apophis, I cannot remember an occasion where we were set upon by home furnishings, so I have no experience in the matter."

"I think he's bored," Jack whispered to Sam, Thanks for that, big guy," he said, returning his attention to the radio, "Hold position until you hear back from me, or if the box makes an aggressive move and threatens to redecorate you, O'Neill out."

It was times like these that Teal'c often wondered why he hadn't just shot O'Neill and stayed with Apophis, for no punishment could be as bad as what was – amongst the more charitably inclined in the SGC - alleged to be the colonel's sense of humour.

The Luggage, while having moved closer, continued to patiently watch the figure by the ruins, burping quietly as the remnants of the Jaffa slowly digested; while it was generally a valise-of-action, it saw no reason to attack someone who was not firing things at it. The cat creature was another thing entirely and if it made the mistake of offering The Luggage another sorta-rat, its continued existence would become increasingly tenuous.

Daniel was becoming more agitated by the second as each symbol he translated bespoke a deepening of the mysteries of the universe. On principle, Daniel like mysteries, they gave him something to do instead of listening to Jack's jingoistic rantings about whatever sports team, country or intergalactic race he was cheering on at any give time. The young man smiled, Jack had become something of a cross between an annoying, know-it-all, older brother and the transistor radio you had playing in the background while you studied, you didn't pay any attention to it while it was on but you missed it when it was gone.

"…this…place…road to…place beyond…stars here…" he spoke the translation of each symbol quietly to himself as he sought to make sense of what he was reading; the similarities of languages, no matter how diverse, never ceased to amaze Daniel. It wasn't the syntax, the grammar, or even the words that were alike, what was consistent throughout all the languages was the ideas; while one culture had a specific word for, what current astronomers termed, 'stars' other cultures referred to 'the flicker-that-breaks-the-night'. Perhaps even more important than the coherency and congruence of the ideas displayed was the probable age of the structure and what it signified. Some of the languages displayed had been dead for more than ten thousand years while other were still in contemporary use, which to Daniel signified that not only was this building an immediate link with Earth's past, but that it was being continuously updated as the current waxing civilisations continued to develop; to Daniel, that implied only one conclusion."

"Daniel?"

"Hmmm?…Oh, Jack, Sam…"

"Whatcha got? You made it sound important."

"It is important."

"…annndddd?"

"Patient as ever, Jack."

"Sam found a banana skin, we were just about to track down the owner when you called."

Daniel looked curiously at the major, if for no other reason that to confirm that the colonel wasn't making up stories; she nodded to indicate that, just this once, the colonel wasn't preparing to ensnare the archaeologist in one of his alleged 'jokes'.

"Did the banana skin have an owner?"

"Probably, and we think they go 'ook', but that's about the extent of it."

"Ook?" Daniel shook his head, consciously trying to clear the image of a banana eating noise out of his head before he proceeded to tell the pair what he'd found. Jack, through long experience with the younger man, moved to forestall the inevitable lecture.

"Edited highlights please, Danny, we don't have time for a Harvard lecture on the subject."

Although disappointed, as all experts are when restrained from holding forth on that which they find truly fascinating, Daniel understood the reason for Jack's request – well, the real reason other than Jack's almost perpetual ADD with regards to matters non-military.

"OK, if I've read what's been written, correctly, we're essentially being told that there is another universe beyond our own."

Sam looked puzzled, "That's not that unusual, Daniel, certainly the concept has been theorised by many scientists in the past. Also, your ascension would tend to indicate the existence of different realities."

Daniel nodded in acknowledgement, "That's true, Sam, but our understanding of other universes is based wholly on our understanding of what makes our own universe tick, and frankly, nothing that makes our universe tick is based on giant, space-going turtles who just happen to be carting around a herd of vacuum living elephants who, in turn, happen to have a world, a flat, pancake-like discworld, I might add, sitting on their backs."

"Daniel, that's nuts."

"Maybe so, Jack, but it's written in pretty much every language ever to occur on Earth in the last, well, since ever actually."

"So you've got it in English then?"

"Well, no, but that's more likely due to my not having found it yet, lord knows I've found pretty much everything from Babylonian through to Latin. There's dozens, possibly hundreds or thousands, of languages here that I don't recognise, but there's enough here that I do to reassure me that I'm not making it up and that I haven't mistranslated and most importantly, that I'm not going mad."

O'Neill smirked, Daniel's sanity, was, at the very least, open to debate, however, when placed in a situation where he was forced to choose between Daniel's expertise and his propensity for getting blown up he'd take the expertise every time; consciously ignoring the little voice in his head that reminded him that every time he followed the dictates of Daniel's expertise it was either him, Sam or Teal'c who ended up on the wrong end of an explosion.

"So you're telling me that this place," Jack gestured about him, "is the equivalent of a giant, intergalactic Rand McNally for any earth-type folks who just happen to drop in?"

"Well I'm not sure I would go quite that far, Jack; although it is possible, I guess, that Earth is in the way of a proposed space-highway," seeing Jack's look of utter incomprehension, Daniel decided to return to the subject at hand. "The thing is, although I would need to research things much more thoroughly before making even a tentative conclusion…"

"Enough with the academic ass-covering; move on…"

Daniel grimaced, "…as I was saying, I think this place was left here specifically for us, but really, until I get a proper look at things, I don't have a clue what this place is or what it's for."

O'Neill frowned, thinking that he would have preferred hearing the incomprehensible academic version rather than hearing his pet archaeologist profess any sort of ignorance. "So what do you suggest?"

"For now? We go home; at the very least I need to consult some books..." he ignored Jack's resigned sigh "…and decide who to bring back to explore this thing, I can't do it by myself and there are some experts in other archaeological and linguistic fields who should see this place."

"We're not running a tourist operation, Daniel; remember, security, national secrets…"

"Don't forget the elves at the bottom of the garden too, Sir."

"Yes, thank you, Carter; you I'd expect to understand."

"I do, Sir, but there's a whole lot of scientists who should come and look at the galaxy room," she managed to look mildly sheepish as the colonel's expression wavered between resigned and betrayed.

"So, we head back?" Twin replies in the affirmative confirmed his decision, "Teal'c?"

The colonel's radio crackled to life as the Jaffa replied "Yes, Colonel O'Neill."

"We're heading home, Daniel and Sam want to consult their books and rustle up a posse."

"Very well, I shall remain at the entrance, Teal'c out."

"Right campers, let's go."

When the trio arrived at the entrance they found Teal'c with the cat asleep on his lap and the strange wooden box standing less than a few feet away with a possessive look on its…errrr….face; Teal'c, for his part, looked faintly embarrassed.

"Say nothing, O'Neill."

Jack held his hands up in mute supplication, indicating that he would, indeed, say nothing; not, of course, that he was actually capable of saying anything as he was too busy trying not to laugh. However, even with the special-ops trained restraint and discipline in the world he failed to restrain the strangled snigger that escaped him, Teal'c merely glared and Jack knew he was going to regret the next sparring session he had with the larger man back at base.

Perhaps the only thing that saved Colonel O'Neill from being disintegrated on the spot was the click of a camera and Jack turned just in time to see Daniel putting away his digital camera.

"You will give that camera to me, Daniel Jackson."

"What camera, Teal'c?" Daniel was even worse at playing innocent that Jack was.

"Do not toy with me Daniel Jackson…" Teal'c made a move to get up only come to an abrupt halt as the cat dug its claws in. All three humans winced in shared sympathy as only a true cat owner cat when pointedly instructed by a cat that their pillow was to remain where it was. Finally, Sam, took sympathy on the clearly startled Jaffa, walked over and gingerly lifted the cat off his lap and placed it quickly on the ground.

Teal'c rose, "What are we doing, O'Neill?"

"As I said, we're heading home; you ready to go?"

"I am, O'Neill, nothing is unpacked as we were too busy escaping from the Jaffa to make any decisions about making camp."

Daniel looked questioningly at the colonel, "DO you think we should make camp and head out after we've had a rest?"

"You're the one that said it was important Daniel."

"True," Daniel replied, as he looked anywhere but at his friend, "but I'm hungry."

"Of course you are. Is anyone else hungry?"

"Mrrrrow."

Jack sighed in resignation, "Other than you."

"I'm not starving, Sir, but it is a bit of a tramp back to the gate, a meal would fortify us against the journey if you want to walk straight through."

"Hey!" This wasn't my idea! Daniel was the one that said this was important; I'm simply being helpful."

Everyone looked dubious, since the number of times Jack O'Neill initiated a course of action based on Daniel's need to hurry could be counted on the fingers of one foot, nevertheless, Daniel, feeling some small smidgeon of something which may have at sometime resembled guilt – or at the outside, conscience – nodded in reluctant agreement.

"I did say it was important, and it is, really; but please, can we eat first?"

"That'll teach you to look at rocks and not feed yourself," grumbled the colonel, if somewhat half-heartedly for, loathe to admit it as he was, he too was hungry. "Fine, we'll eat and then move out."

"Mrrrrrow?" The cry was questioning.

"Why don't you go and get a sorta-rat or something?" Like all felines, the cat responded to the concept of a mere human offering it culinary advice by ignoring it and heading in the direction of what it wanted to eat; Teal'c's MRE."

Jack shrugged; it wasn't his MRE. Turning towards his own pack, he found himself staring at the wooden box, which appeared to be regarding him hopefully.

"Let me guess, you want something to eat too?"

The Luggage bashfully dug one of its many toes in the dirt and tried to look coy.

"Why don't you go and catch a sorta-rat?"

The Luggage snapped its lid with a finality that put paid to the colonel following that suggestion any further; sighing in resignation, he tossed an unopened MRE in the direction of the box which leapt, with all the finesse of a dolphin at Sea World, and plucked the morsel out of the air before it settled down and did the Luggage equivalent of purring contentedly.

An hour later SG-1 was on the move. As was always the case the return journey seemed much quicker than the initial foray into the unknown. Admittedly, the group was not required to rescue a member of the local wildlife from a carnivorous plant and neither, as seemed to be par-for-the-course with this particular SG unit, were they pursued by enraged Jaffa, angry natives, or a combination of both and concomitant bad weather, and thus the journey passed without incident.

Until they reached the gate…of course.

"Dial us home, Sam."

"Yes, Sir."

Atypically, the chevrons locked into place without incident and the wormhole flared to life with nary an irregularity in sight; a lesser man would have been suspicious, but Colonel Jonathan O'Neill USAF took it as his due, and with no little relief; if anyone deserved a break it was him. Taking one last look at the planet he turned to follow SG-1 up the stairs and through the gate only to stop and stare in horror as he saw the cat and the box follow Teal'c through to Earth.

He gave serious thought to running away at that point.

Nevertheless, he girded his loins and stepped through the gate to be greeted by the stentorian tones of the General's voice as it echoed throughout the gate room.

"Colonel O'Neill, why in the name of God Almighty…."


End file.
